245 words | Flash Fiction | Horror
Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer.
“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded.
He stood there, glaring at me. “This is for your own good.”
“My own good? What the fuck are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I mean, it’s down to genetics and evolution, isn’t it? Your kind doesn’t have the mental capacity.”
The sirens were closer now.
“My kind? What’s that supposed to mean?” I reached out, needing the contact. He shrugged away from my hand.
“It’s all there in the science, once you peel back all the woke bullshit. I always wondered deep down how you could go against the laws of nature, but it makes sense. You’re sick. Infected.”
I reeled back. The sirens were so close now that I could count the number of vehicles.
“Where is this coming from?”
“Why does it have to be ‘coming from’ anywhere?” he demanded. “This is me. This is who I was always meant to be. I’m only just realizing it.”
“You said you loved me…”
He laughed. “Who could love you?”
“I don’t even know you anymore.” The sirens had stopped. Was that a good sign?
He reached up, grabbed the skin where his jaw met his neck with both hands, and pulled. The sound was sickening— wet and soft. “See the real me!” He wrenched it upward, ripping away his face. Underneath, something hateful and malevolent glared out at me.
As masked men smashed through my front door, I had time to wonder when his face had become a mask.